Bree
by KaleidoscopeKreation
Summary: What happened the day Bree was abducted by the calormens. One-shot, drabbles, hope you like.


Random Drabble I wrote because I was really bored! Please read, you don't have to review.

I was only a foal when they took me.

I remember the day that it happened as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was early June, and I was just over 2 months old. I had been born in late march, the first foal of the season, which made me feel superior to the other foals, as I was the biggest and strongest. Now I know that it was my superiority that made them take me, the way I bullied smaller foals off grass I wanted, the fact that I could run further and faster than the other foals, my legs being stronger and my confidence larger. I know now that my father was a noble stallion, renowned throughout Narnia, and had a close friendship with King Edmund. He rode into battle many a time, and from accounts I have heard, died defending the King. He was a wanderer, though, which led him to Southern Archenland; the place I was born. My mother was a very beautiful mare, and talked of my father often. It is from him that I got my capability as war horse, and from her my handsome – if I say so myself – colouring. It is no surprise that the Calormen horse thieves chose me as their target.

They came across the desert, to the lush, sparsely populated (by humans and dwarfs – it was a haven for talking animals), where my herd – a large, healthy herd – lived, intent on stealing one promising foal, that was destined to be a Tarkaan's war horse. We saw and heard them coming, of course, but, having nothing to fear from humans, as we could talk, did not run away. Instead, one stallion and a few mares went forward to speak with the newcomers. Brief words were exchanged, and then the Calormens began to wander through the herd.

My mother and I, and the other foals and their mothers, were grazing a little way away from the main herd, and I was showing off, exhibiting how fast I could run, then turn sharply and stop. Soon enough the men began to make their way over to us, and one of them signalled to me. The others nodded. I remember feeling an aversion to the men – a hunch that they meant no good. I think the other horses felt it too, as they began to shrink closer together. If only we had bolted back to the herd then!

I have always regretted what I did next. Wanting to show my boldness, I stepped forward, and spoke to the Calormens. 'Hello, men!' I started boldly. 'What brings you here?'

The man who seemed to be the leader of their herd leaned toward his friend. 'It talks too. We'll need to beat it out of him.' He didn't realise we had all heard. Then he came forward. 'Hello, young one. Why don't you come with us for a moment?' My mother, realising these men meant no good, began to speak low in my ear.

'Bree, come on, we need to get back to the herd. Stay close to me, and run.' Then she turned to the men, her voice strong. 'I will not let him go anywhere with you.'

'He will whether you like it or not, you animal!' shouted their leader, lunging toward me. Behind me I heard another mare shout. 'They're horse thieves! RUN!'

We all bolted, the men chasing after me, running frantically for the herd, panicking. But I knew already that I wouldn't be able to do it. For all my boasting, I was only a foal, and the men were fast and had weapons. My mother saw me slowing, and stopped too. 'Get behind me, Bree!' She shouted. I cowered between her legs as the men formed a circle around us.

I will never forget what happened next. One of the men shouted to my mother. 'Give us the foal, and you will live!'

'No!'

'So be it.' Then all the men ran forward. My mother reared, trying to defend us, but it was no use. Their leader, a cruel blade flashing in his hand, lunged at her. Then the worst sound I have ever heard – a horse's scream – sounded above me, full of terror and despair. Then silence.

My mother fell beside me, spattering me with her blood. Her eyes rolled into her head, and she whispered my name once, then there was silence. I whinnied, nuzzling her desperately, anger, terror and sadness overtaking my power of speech. I kicked and snorted, rolling my eyes, as the rope came around my head, forcing me into submission. I gave into grief, letting myself be pulled away from my mother's body, and with one last look back, descended into darkness.

That image and that sound have haunted me ever since, more than all the battles I have been in, and all the dangers I have faced. My nightmares all end with that sound, and the slightest echo – a man who looks similar to one of the thieves, a note with the right pitch, makes me tremble where I stand.

But my mother's sacrifice, though it might have seemed as thought it was in vain, was not entirely so. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and fate led me to meet Sasha, Aravis and Hwin – my dearest friends. If I hadn't been taken from my mother all those years ago, we would have never saved Narnia from the Calormen attack, and all we know would have been destroyed. It is odd, the way a hopeless situation, in the long run, and with a little help from Fate, makes things better.

So all in all, I think my mother would be proud of me.


End file.
